Chapter Nine
Meg sat at her dressing table, pulling a brush through her hair over and over, wishing she could just be hypnotized by the strokes and turn her restless mind off. It had been an incredibly trying afternoon.
It would have been bad enough with just the announcement of her new engagement and the drama that surrounded that. But that it was such a public, shocking thing made it impossible to be separated from the consequences. Despite the fact that Meg had been sequestered away, women who called themselves friends kept coming to her door. They were digging for information. Digging for fresh gossip.
They wanted to look at her face and see her pain written across it. Oh, there were a few who were not so cruel about it, but all were intensely curious. All wanted a little kernel of the story they could repeat later.
She was exhausted and only wanted to go to her bed and forget this day. She sighed and stood up, shrugging from her dressing gown and moving toward her bed. Fran had turned it down before she left half an hour before, and as Meg smoothed her hand over the cool, clean sheets she let out a sigh. Yes, things always looked better after a good night’s sleep.
They had to.
She was about to climb into those sheets and blow out her candle when there was a light knock at her chamber door. She turned to face it, lips pinched. She had said goodnight to James hours ago, Emma had come to check on her more recently, Fran should be happily in her own bed.
Which meant it was probably more tourists to her emotions on the other side of the door. To come here at midnight certainly took guts.
“Ignore it,” she murmured to herself as she turned back to the bed once more.
But the knock came again, this time with more force and urgency. She squeezed her eyes shut, frustration about this entire situation finally rising up in her. She stormed to the door and tore it open as she snapped, “There is nothing to discuss!”
But she didn’t find herself looking at some grasping lady seeking gossip or even a friend trying to wrap her head around what Meg had done. She found herself staring at a broad chest and lifted her gaze to see that Simon stood in the hall. In the dark. His jacket was off, his shoes were off, his cravat was undone and his hair was mussed, like he’d been running a hand through it.
“S-Simon,” she stammered.
He did not smile, but cocked his head. “If you don’t want to see me—”
“No,” she interrupted, and watched his shoulders slump. She caught his hand. “No, I simply thought you were someone else. Yes, I want to see you. I’m sorry. Just—just come in.”
She stepped back, keenly aware for the first time that she was clad only in a thin nightrail, her shoulders all but bare but for a pair of inch-wide straps. She blushed, though it was silly. The previous night she had only been clad in a blanket.
Still, she grabbed for her robe and tied it around her waist as Simon entered the room and shut the door behind him.
“Who did you think I was?” he asked.
She shrugged, forcing herself to face him and behave as though all this was perfectly normal. That he was supposed to be in her bedroom in the middle of the night, that he was supposed to be her fiancé. That nothing had changed since yesterday morning, even though everything in her world was different.
She had no other idea how to act but that.
“I have been plagued by interested parties all afternoon,” she admitted.
His jaw tightened. “Interested parties? What does that mean?”
“Friends who want to ask me about my new engagement. Congratulate me privately,” she said, then shook her head. “They want to spy and get a glimpse of me. You know how these scandals go.”
He scowled. “And James and Emma are not preventing this?”
“They aren’t my keepers,” she said. “Even if they were, what can they do? Stand guard at my door all day?”
“Yes, if they must,” he huffed out. “I’ll do it myself if they won’t.”
His protectiveness touched her heart in a way that felt very dangerous considering their current circumstance, but she smiled regardless. “Don’t you think that would only make talk worse? No, if I let them in and talk to them as if this new engagement is perfectly normal, then perhaps they’ll get bored of the topic sooner and we’ll regain some semblance of normalcy.”
Simon bent his head and silence filled the room. She stared at him, as he wasn’t looking at her. One thing she’d always loved about this man was the light that seemed to surround him. He always had a half-grin, a chuckle. He could lighten even the darkest of situations. He was the first person who made her laugh after her father died.
Tonight, though, that light was gone. The man before her was serious and grim. Pained. She understood why, but she hated that this is where they’d come to after so many years of easy friendship and connection.
She didn’t want to lose that. Slowly, she moved to him and extended her hand. They both watched as she took his, intertwining their fingers the way they’d previously only been allowed to do while dancing. His breath caught and he turned toward her slightly.
“Why did you come here tonight?” she whispered. “To my chamber, after everyone else has gone to bed?”
He swallowed, his throat working and he edged closer, cutting off the small distance that remained between them. Now they were almost touching, their bodies a hair’s breadth apart.
“You know what I wanted last night,” he whispered.
The hand he wasn’t holding began to shake and she clenched it into a fist. “I-I think so,” she answered. “The same thing I-I wanted.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, a low groan coming from deep within his chest. The heat in the room changed, rising as he released her hand and instead slid his fingers around her waist. He tugged her, drawing her fully against him.
“Last night…I couldn’t. Because you weren’t mine,” he continued.
She nodded, understanding that. Understanding how desperately he’d been trying to honor his friend, his claim. “But I’m yours now,” she murmured.
He glided his hands through her hair, cupping the back of her head and tilting her face toward his. “I want to make you mine,” he said. “Will you let me make you mine?”
She didn’t answer, but lifted up and pressed her lips to his. There was a shudder of relief that passed between them, an echo of what she’d felt when he kissed her last night. Only this time there was no guilt to go along with it. There was nothing but the passion that had been long denied, but always there, waiting to be unleashed. His mouth opened and he traced her lips with his tongue. She welcomed him in as she lifted her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him.
They stood that way, kissing, for what felt like an eternity. She memorized every hollow and curve of his mouth, she swam in his taste and the feel of him worshipping her lips. It was heaven.
Finally he pulled back, resting his forehead against hers as his ragged breath moved in and out. “I have wanted to do that for so damn long, Meg.”
She smiled as she smoothed her fingers against his shoulders, feeling the muscles there bunch, feeling his own hands tighten at her waist. “I’ve been waiting too.”
He reached down and slid his finger into the knot in her robe’s sash. Gently he unwrapped the scrap of silk and then met her stare as he glided his hands up her arms, catching the edge and drawing it down. The room was warm from the fire, but she shivered as he tossed her robe aside.
He stepped back and looked at her from head to toe, his pupils dilating and his fingers clenching. Then he reached up and unbuttoned his own shirt, stripping it open in a few swift actions and throwing it to the floor.
She caught her breath. Last night she’d seen him like this, of course, but she’d stolen those glances. Tonight she had no reason to do so, and she stared long and hard as she moved forward and reached out to place a palm flat against his chest. The solid muscle that greeted her was warm and she felt his heart beat beneath his skin.
Simon caught his breath, but he didn’t back away as she spread her fingers across his flesh, exploring every bump and hollow. She forced her gaze up to his face, blushing as their eyes met. He smiled, the first time she’d seen him smile since they’d been caught in the rain together. Then he slid his fingers beneath her nightrail strap and glided one side down.
She gasped as the warm air in the room touched her bare breast, and turned her face so she wouldn’t see him looking at her. She heard his sharp intake of breath. When his fingers brushed against her hard nipple, she jerked her attention back to him.
He was staring intently as he stroked his hand back and forth across her. It was like nothing she’d ever felt before, like she was alive in a way she hadn’t realized was possible. Tingles of pleasure and awareness shot out from her breast, down into her stomach, lower between her legs, and she could no longer draw a full breath.
He stroked a thumb over her and she grabbed for his forearms, digging her fingers into him as she gasped out surprise at the intensity of the sensations.
His smile widened a little and he reached out to draw down the other strap of her nightrail. He bared her from the waist up and then tugged, bringing the flimsy fabric down over her hips to pool around her feet.
She was naked. Naked with Simon. But not like last night, when there had been blankets and emotions and lies between them. Tonight she was truly naked with this man. And he was touching her. Her entire body quaked and she knew her eyes were wide and her gaze uncertain. What she wanted she could not name, what he was doing she didn’t fully understand and what would happen next she feared.
Despite it all she wanted more. More touching. More of him. More of what they’d started the night before. More of what was now theirs to take. She wanted everything and she trusted that what he was about to give would be magical.
He covered her other breast, cupping both now in his warm hands. She tilted her head back, reveling in the intensity of his touch, in the way her body arched into him, demanding what she was too shy to ask for with words.
Then she felt the steamy warmth of his breath near her nipple. She opened her eyes and watched as he leaned in and gently circled the nub with the tip of his tongue.
“Simon,” she gasped, her hands coming up into his hair. She tugged him closer, she pushed him away, she nearly toppled over as she tried to process everything she was feeling.
He straightened and looked down into her eyes. “Do you want this?”
“I’m not sure I even know what this is,” she admitted. “Engaged or not, my mother wasn’t exactly explaining anything to me. And I hadn’t asked Emma yet.”
He pursed his lips. “I’ll take you, Meg. I’ll put my body into yours.”
She nodded. “That part I know. Understanding is different, but I know.”
He reached out and caught her hand, pressing it to the front of his trousers where she felt the hard line of his cock. She’d seen just a momentary glimpse of it last night. Big was what she remembered.
Intimidating.
“Will it hurt?” she asked, stroking her fingers up and down that fascinating length through the fabric.
He grunted out a sound that she wasn’t sure was pleasure or pain. “At first. Yes.”
She cupped him and he jolted. “But not always?”
“No,” he said, his voice strangled.
“Am I hurting you?” she asked softly.
“No,” he said, his tone stronger. He pushed her hands away and unfastened his trousers. He dropped them and kicked them away and now he stood before her, as naked as she was.
She caught her breath. Stolen glimpses in the dark didn’t do him justice. His body was…amazing. Hard where she was soft, broad where she was narrow, and the cock…that cock that he claimed he would fit into her. It was as tempting as it was terrifying.
She reached for him once more and took him in hand. This time there were no barriers between them and she sucked in a gasp of surprise at how hard he was. But the skin was so soft. She smoothed her fingers over the bulging head and down the long, thick shaft.
He pushed into her as she did so and let out a quiet curse. She looked up, fascinated by how enraptured he was. His breath was short, his eyes glazed, his body all tension and coiled strength. He could take over any time he wanted, she sensed that, but he didn’t. He just let her stroke him, over and over.
“Keep that up and I’m going to spend,” he managed to choke out.
She stopped moving her hand. “What does that mean?”
“That you’ll give me so much pleasure I’ll lose control and spend my seed before I even have a chance to touch you,” he explained, catching her wrist and setting her hand away from him. “And I’ve waited so long for this, Meg, I have no intention of ending it that way.”
He pushed her back toward her bed, guiding her until her legs hit the side of the mattress. Then he swept her up and deposited her on her pillows and climbed up beside her, caging her in with his arms. Although she wasn’t certain what to do, her body seemed to move of its own accord, lifting into him as she wound her arms around his neck and drew him in for another of those deep, earth-shattering kisses.
He gave gently, almost reverently, stroking her with his tongue, kissing her until she relaxed into the pillows. Then his mouth drew lower, his lips tasting the angle of her jaw, the curve of her neck, the expanse of her chest and back to her exquisitely sensitive breasts.
She slid her hands into his hair again, able to fully surrender now that she was no longer trying to remain upright as he teased and tasted her. He sucked one nipple, then the other. He nibbled her sensitive flesh with just the edge of his teeth, he sucked until she bit back a cry, he stroked with his tongue until she trembled.
She was needy and on fire, she was shaking and ready to beg. But he pulled his mouth away and traced it lower. Over her ribcage, past her stomach, across her hip, and then he placed one hand on each of her thighs and opened her.
She jolted up to her elbows, staring as he settled between her legs, his face just inches from the most private place in her body. And if that shocked her mind, her sex was another story. Already it was wet, tingling, and having him so near made her hips rise when she didn’t recall wanting them to do so.
He smiled and looked up at her. “You can trust me,” he whispered.
She tensed at those words. He was saying he would take care of her. That because of his experience, he could make this night one of pleasure for her. The idea was wonderful, indeed, but it made her think of her brother’s words earlier in the day.
Of all the other women Simon had done this to. Of all of those he had loved and forgotten in his wake.
But before her worries could overcome her and steal the pleasure of this moment, he dropped his mouth to her and licked her gently. Her mind emptied of everything she thought, everything she might have said. She found herself clutching at the coverlet as he spread her open wide and licked her again.
It was spectacular. Intimate and wicked, focused and far more pleasurable than when he’d done the same to her nipples. She lifted her hips into him, grinding them against him with some kind of ancient, wanton knowledge. The act made the pleasure more focused and he worked his tongue faster over her, gliding his mouth across her center, rolling his tongue around the nub of nerves at the top. She turned her face into her arm, trying to hold back unstoppable gasps and cries as he brought her to the brink of madness with his skilled tongue.
And just when she thought the pleasure couldn’t be better, just when she thought she’d reached the pinnacle, her sex began to quake. Tremors of pleasure washed over her and she jolted her hips wildly as he ran his tongue over her again and again and again.
Only when she’d stopped shaking did he lift his head from between her legs, crawling back up to cover her, resting his hands on either side of her head as he stared down into her face.
“I’m ready,” she whispered when he was silent for so long she feared he was contemplating running. “I want this.”
He shut his eyes, and for a moment there was a flash of pain on his face. A flash of regret that grabbed her heart and squeezed. But then he opened his eyes again and whispered, “I’ll give you everything you want then, Meg. Everything.”